Doux Amour
by francyfrenchypants
Summary: Spain x France yaoi Fan Fiction. Francis is a newly single father, raising his son Matthieu. In comes Antonio, a teacher at Matthieu's high school. When the two men come together, what will bloom? Friendship? Or perhaps, if they are lucky, something more.
1. Chapter 1

_Beep Beep Beep Bee-_

A hand slammed down on the top of a small silver alarm clock. With a deep, guttural groan, the hand retreated back into its warm cavern made up of a soft, dark red comforter. There was some slight shuffling and movement for a split second before everything went still. Then the red sheets were thrown back, and the owner of the hand was exposed.

The person that was revealed was an adult male. The man groaned his again and rubbed his closed eyes with the backs of his hands. His eyes fluttered open, revealing vibrant orbs of sky blue. The man squinted at the harsh light of day then sat up. He stretched his long pale arms towards the ceiling, and then stood up abruptly from the bed he was on.

Dressed in only a pair of silky pajama pants, he padded across the hardwood floor to a simple master bathroom and stared at himself in the mirror. His blonde hair laid in messy waves, framing his face and brushing against the tops of his shoulders. His closely trimmed facial hair lined his jaw, and was just a shade darker than the golden blonde of his head. After a moment of looking at himself, the man sighed and splashed cold water on his face, then left the bathroom.

He tossed on a pair of dark denim jeans and a simple white T- Shirt. Following that, he walked from the quiet room into an equally quiet hallway. The walls were lined with brown cardboard boxes, stacked shoulder high. All were had labels, describing what laid inside.

A few steps later, and the man emerged into a barren kitchen. He went to a box by an island bar in the center of the room, and reached inside, pulling out a newspaper wrapped cup. The paper fell away with little resistance, and drifted back into the cardboard box.

"Dad, you're driving me to school this morning right?" asked a soft spoken male voice.

The father turned to face his son. The teen before him wore a red pullover and kaki cargo shorts, and was casually holding a well-worn hockey stick. He looked much like his father. There was the similar hair, with the exception of a simple spiral curl at the front of his hair. Silver, wire-framed glasses sat on his face, creating a window to eyes that matched his fathers.

"Yes Matthieu, after I finish getting dressed and you get your things together, I will take you."

Matthieu placed the stick on the counter, and grabbed a cup from the box. The tall boy smiled at his dad, and the father smiled back at his son.

"Can you get me some water while I finish getting dressed?" the father asked.

Matthieu nodded and took the unwrapped cup from his father's grasp. The older male then returned to the bedroom and grabbed a light grey button-down shirt, pulling it on over the white tee. As he slipped each button into is appropriate hole, he went to a trunk at the foot of the bed.

Once his slender fingers finished the buttons, he opened the steamer trunk and rummaged around inside. Before long, he pulled out a long silken red ribbon. He brought the ribbon to his hair and pulled his hair back with it. Once the perfect bow was finished, the man found his shoes and socks, before returning to his son.

"So what are you taking again?" he asked as he accepted a water filled cup from the boy.

"World History, Calculus, Humanities, Junior English, French II and I have hockey tryouts tomorrow."

"I'm glad that they have a team. And isn't taking French II a little easy for you?" the father said with a grin.

"It's an easy grade. I want to devote a lot of my time to hockey. Besides, I don't want to learn any knew languages. So why not take the simple route?"

"It's your choice Matthieu. Have you gotten your bag?" Matthieu pointed to a simple canvas messenger bag. "Then let's get going."

Both father and son left the kitchen and headed through the house to the outside world. Once there, the two got inside a simple but stylish black car and buckled up. The father wasted little time in backing down their driveway and heading towards the surface streets.

Matthieu turned the stereo on, and an upbeat French song began to play. Both immediately started to sing along, and before long, the car pulled up in front of a large high school. Tons of students were milling about, talking, texting, or still trying to wake up.

The father and son got out of the car and headed to the main double doors. Many students stared as the two entered the building and headed towards reception.

The man smiled at a mousey little receptionist.

"Excusez-moi, but my son is a new student here, and this is his first day. Is there anywhere particular that he needs to go before finding his first class?"

"He can pick up a map from here, but no, he is free to find his classroom," said the woman, a little flustered by the handsome man.

"Merci Mademoiselle. I leave him in your capable hands." He turned to Matthieu. "Call me when school is out?"

"Yes Dad," he said in his soft spoken voice. The father patted his head then left the building.

As he began to walk back to his car., he looked at the ground with a solemn expression. Then, he collided with a solid force, knocking him flat on his backside. A flurry of papers filled the air, and there were two deep groans of pain.

"Mon Dieu! What the hell?" He sat up and looked at what, or rather who, he had collided with.

The man before him was tall and handsome. He had messy dark brown hair, and a beautiful natural tan. Both males stared at each other as they sat on the ground in a daze. First to snap out of it, the dark haired man stood and offered his hand to help the blonde to his feet.

"I am so sorry!" he said. The blonde took the outstretched hand and was helped to his feet.

"It's my fault, I wasn't watching where I was going," the blond said.

"No no no I was in too much of a rush."

The two, eyes still locked, stood awkwardly, until the dark haired man smiled.

"I'm Antonio Carriedo. You?" he asked, extending out his hand.

"Francis Bonnefoy," the blonde said.

He clasped Antonio's hand and a large grin spread across his face.

((So I am new to the whole fan fiction writing thing, so sorry if its not as good as it could be. I will aim to improve))


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Francis pulled his hand from Antonio's warm fingers. Attempting to regain some calm, he ran a hand along his hair and sucked in a much needed breath. Antonio was watching Francis with a calm but intense gaze. It didn't help Francis's composure, but the blonde did his best to brush it off.

"Were you late for something?" Francis asked, to break the silence between them.

Antonio jerked as if he had been slapped. "Shit! Yes sorry I forgot. I had a department meeting at 8:30 but I woke up late today."

"Department? You work at the school?"

"Yep!" Antonio smiled. "I've been a teacher a few years now."

Francis was a bit surprised, but kept his face devoid of it. Quickly, Francis flicked his gaze up and down to assess the man in front of him.

Antonio was his height, and well built. There was tone to his muscles, but they were overwhelming or bulging. He was wearing a thin, white cotton T-Shirt, the kind that was normally worn under other clothes. His jeans were dark and well worn, thinning a bit in the knees and cuffs. The clothes fit perfectly. Almost hesitantly, Francis moved his gaze back up Antonio's.

Those eyes captivated Francis. They were a bright vibrant forest green. The eyes were some of the most beautiful and pure green that he had ever seen. When people say that the eyes are a window to the soul, Francis in that moment believed it. Looking into Antonio's gaze, he felt as if he was learning everything about this man at an elemental level.

Francis shuffled his feet and finally tore his gaze away from the enigma of a man in front of him. Antonio took a step closer, creating a supercharged closeness. Francis stilled, as Antonio' hand came up and touched his shoulder.

"I should probably get going. Will you be alright?" Antonio said in a soft tone.

Francis smiled. "Of course Proffesseur. Teach them well."

Francis stepped away from the man and went to his car. Once inside, he sat and stared at the steering wheel. His entire body felt strange and his heart was beating out of control.

"What the hell is wrong with me? I am 37 years old, I should not be freaking out like a young school girl!" Francis muttered to himself.

Frustrated, he started his car and drove home. He forced himself to focus on the unfamiliar roads in front of him. Everything was new to him, and he only knew how to get to two places; the school and the grocery store.

As soon as Francis pulled into the driveway, he shut off the car and got out, slamming his door behind him. He almost ran into his house and immediately went to a specific box and pried it open. Inside, there were several photo albums.

"You. It's all your fault." He whispered.

Francis sat back on his rear, and just stared at the box. His eyes squeezed shut, and he turned to face his living room. His eyes opened and took in the room before him. It had a large corner sectional couch placed neatly against two walls, and faced a big flat screen TV. A simple coffee table sat in front of the couch, and held a controller to a game system. With almost a disgusted sigh, he stood up and went to the boxes in the hallway.

Many hours passed as Francis unpacked and put away the items inside each box. The kitchen was filled with cooking utensils of every kind. A stack of pictures and art was laid on a large dining table in a dining room. The extra linens were put away, and the boxes had been dismantled and were propped against the wall.

There was only one box left. The box of albums still sat in its place. Francis eyed the box with distain, but reached and lifted it up. He carried the hefty item to his room and into his walk in closet. Grunting, he lifted it above his head and shoved it onto a high shelf.

"You're gone. You are not coming back. We don't need or want you anyway," Francis said, his voice shaky.

There was suddenly a loud pop song playing in the bedroom. Francis bolted from the closet and rushed to his bedside table. A slim black smart phone was vibrating on the dark brown wood. Francis lifted the phone and answered the incoming call.

"Hello?"

"Hey Dad. School is out. Want to come get me?" Mathieu asked softly.

"Yes Mathieu I will be there in a few minutes. Meet me out front." Francis hung up and went to the door, out to the car and drove to the school.

The school as basically deserted when he arrived. Only a few students milled about, and there were very few cars left. Francis exited his car and headed to the front of the school. Mathieu was leaning against a wall, talking to a man. As Francis approached, his heart thumped hard.

Antonio stood there smiling and talking to Antonio. Upon Francis's approach, Antonio looked at him and gave him a happy grin.

"Thanks for waiting with me Mr. Carrido," Mathieu said.

"Yes thank you for waiting with Mathieu."

"It is no trouble."

Francis extended his hand, and Antonio clasped the paler skin in his. Antonio's grip was firm and secure. The warmth of it almost made Francis sweat. Slowly, the two hands let go of each other, and Mathieu went to stand next to his father.

As the two blondes walked to the car, Francis glanced back over his shoulder. Antonio's eyes locked with his for a split second, before they both looked away.

Francis's heart pounded like a drum deep within his chest the entire way home.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

_/Eyes searched the crowd of people eagerly. Francis was practically bouncing with excitement. His straight white teeth were chewing away anxiously on his bottom lip. Time was agonizingly slow around him, each second feeling like hours. Then suddenly, he spotted them._

_Ice shot through his veins. Sheer and indescribable terror filled every atom of his being. Francis's body became tense and immobile. The crow suddenly stopped and parted to show the person more clearly, before melting into the ground._

_Pale, slender limbs, a flowing white dress, and white blonde hair created the feminine figure before him. Eyes opened, revealing black holes with an emotionless gaze. Then, blood began dripping from the arms, pooling at the feet. A huge re circle appeared on her stomach and more blood dripped from it, sliding own her body and joining the already forming large pools. The woman's mouth opened, and blood poured steadily from her mouth._

_"I never loved you," a gasping voice whispered into Francis's ear._

_The woman disappeared from sight and appeared behind Francis, still dripping blood._

_"But-"_

_"I had to stay, for that creature's sake, because you provided an easy route. But I hated you, I hated him. I never love either of you," the voice hissed._

_Tears of blood rolled down Francis's cheeks. He fell to his knees, wrapped his arms around himself, and sobbed. The woman draped her bleeding body against his back, soaking his clothing in thick blood._

_"I didn't… I didn't…"_

_"You're the one at fault. You're the cause. I never would have done it if it wasn't for you," she hissed._

_Francis cried out in pain and clutched his chest tightly. There was a ripping sound, like wet paper being torn apart. Francis coughed, blood spewing from his mouth. Then, the woman's hand burst from his chest-_ /

Francis woke up screaming. There was a flurry of steps and Mathieu burst into his father's bedroom wearing red pajamas covered in white maple leaves. He immediately sat by his father and wrapped his arms tightly around the trembling older male.

"It's just a dream Dad. Just a bad dream," Mathieu whispered into his father's ear.

"I know," Francis gasped.

"I'm here Dad. You have me."

Francis hugged his son tightly. He stroked the young man's hair and nuzzled the top of his son's head. He took deep breaths, trying in vain to calm his racing heart.

"I'm sorry Mathieu. I didn't mean to wake you."

"It's okay."

The two sat there for a long time, just embracing each other and trying to calm themselves. Francis eventually calmed his heart, and pulled slightly back from his son. His large hands cupped Mathieu's face softly and he peered into the blue eyes that were just so much like his own.

"I love you son," he said intently.

"I love you too Dad."

Francis smile and kissed his son's cheeks before hugging him again. He held him tightly, trying to collect his emotions as best as possible under the circumstances.

"Alright, you can go back to bed now. I will be okay."

Mathieu released Francis, but just laid in the bed next to him. "I want to stay."

"But-"

"Just go to bed Dad," Mathieu said, before flipping over, facing a wall.

Slowly, Francis laid his head down and watched his son quietly. Soon, Mathieu's soft breathing filled the room. Francis tucked a blanket around his son and got out of the bed. He looked back at his sleeping child with a small smile, and then left the room.

His hair was messy and free from its day time tie. He wore the black silky pants from the night before and nothing else. There were half-moon indents in his palms from where he had been digging his nails into his flesh during his nightmare. His bare feet padded down the hallway to a closed door, then stopped before entering.

Francis went into the other room, which was set up as a study slash studio space, and flipped on a light. There was a desk on one side of the room, with a sleek and slim laptop placed squarely in the center. There was also a small desk lamp and picture frame placed neatly on the desk.

On the other side of the room, was an art easel. Canvases of several shapes and sizes were propped against the wall, and a small wheeled cabinet held paint, brushes, and other assorted art materials. On top of the cabinet, laid a small rectangular box and a silver ash tray.

With a deep sigh, Francis sat on a tall stool in front of the easel. He lifted a two foot by three foot canvas and set it down on the easel. He reached to the table and lifted the rectangular box. It was a pack of Gauloises, a French cigarette brand. He took one of the slim cigarettes out and located a lighter from within one of the drawers. He lit the tip, put it between his lips, and inhale.

With the thick scented smoke filling his lungs, Francis began to retrieve and organize his paints. The cigarette hung loosely from his lips as he gathered all his supplies. With a quick flick, Francis knocked off some ashes into the silver ash tray.

After placing the cigarette back between his lips, he lifted a thin brush and dipped into very gently into a small pool of paint. The brush transferred to the canvas, and Francis began to create.

Hours passed. Two short ends of cigarettes lay in the ashtray, and Francis was currently smoking a third. Paint was speckled on his hands and bare chest. Francis set down his brush and stared at what he had created with a blank look.

The canvas was full of color. It was Mathieu as a child, smiling and holding a hockey stick. The details were exact. Every hair, every eyelash, every single inch of the picture was perfect and distinctive. Mathieu's sky blue eyes were as bright and vibrant as life. The entire picture was just Mathieu. It was so realistic it looked as if the child would just leap from the canvas and into Francis's arms.

"Forget the rest. This is what you have. No matter what, you have him. He loves you, and you love him," Francis muttered to himself.

He glanced upwards at the ceiling and willed himself to be okay. A pounding force slammed against the inside of his skull. His ears were ringing, and the smell of his cigarettes was filling his lungs.

"Dad?" said a small voice.

Francis whipped his head toward the door. Mathieu stood there in his pajamas, rubbing his eyes with the back of his hands. He lowered his hands and looked at his father.

"Sorry I was just…."

Mathieu walked to him and pulled the cigarette from his lips and put it out in the tray. "Two a day, you know that."

Francis smiled. "Sorry. What time is it?"

"It's just about seven. I'm going to go shower if that's alright."

"Of course! I will get breakfast out."

Francis stood and headed to the kitchen. Once there he pulled out a loaf of sliced bread and some jam, and set them on the counter. He grabbed some tall, slender glasses from a cabinet and grabbed a pitcher of orange juice from the fridge, before moving to begin the French Press coffee.

After a few minutes Mathieu came out in a T-Shirt and jeans. Francis finished pouring himself a cup of coffee and lifted the mug to his lips.

"So what are you working on lately?" Mathieu asked as he poured juice.

"I'm editing a poem collection. Next week I need to go into the main offices to have a meeting, but until then I can just finish my editing," Francis explained.

Mathieu nodded his head. "Alright. Do you know when yet?"

"Next Friday at six. I'll be able to pick you up from school then I will need to head out."

"That's fine. Remember that I have tryouts today, so I won't need you to get me till late tonight."

"Alright."

The two made other small talk for a while as they ate toast and drank their respective beverages. Mathieu was smiling happily, thoughts of the night seemingly gone for the both of them for the time being.

When the time for school came, Francis drove Mathieu to the school. Once there, as Francis said his goodbyes, he unconsciously scanned the crowd for Him.

Then as if time stopped, Francis saw him. He was smiling and talking to a young female student. Antonio turned his head, and those piercing green eyes connected with the sparkling blue that Francis possessed. A huge grin spread across Antonio's already smiling face. He lifted one hand and waved to Francis, and almost shyly, Francis waved back.

As Francis left, for the first time that day, a real smile creeped onto his lips.

((Thank you very much for reading my story! Please Review it and let me know what you think! And at some time in the future, after I've written more of this, I might right other pairings. But please let me know how Im doing.))


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